Guilt Trip
by Hecatia10
Summary: Sam and Dean come across a case involving a hunter they worked with when they were kids. Now that hunter has beheaded his father while yelling about monsters; but did he just go mad, or is there an actual case? If so, what is the creature, and are Sam and Dean strong enough to stop it? Series style monster-of-the-week story. Set late-ish series 7, after Repo Man.
1. The Case

**Guilt Trip**

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__Setting: Season 7  
Between __"Repo Man" __and __"Out with the Old"__  
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Dean blinked awake, squinting slightly in the early morning light, but not yet lifting his head from where it rested on the Impala's glass window. Sam sat beside him in the drivers seat, coffee in one hand and newspaper in the other, frowning at whatever article had caught his attention. A few seconds passed before Dean sat up, uncrossing his arms and stretching as much as he could inside the car.

"Ugh. What time is it?"

"About 4."

"Well I hope you got one of those for me Sammy." Dean motioned towards the coffee.

"Yep, and one better." He nodded his head towards the back seat without taking his eyes off the paper.

Dean looked over his shoulder and reached back to pick up the plastic shopping bag, yanking apart the handles.

"Now that's what I'm talking about!" A rare smile that reached his eyes appeared as he pulled a plastic container out of the bag. Inside: apple pie. "Oh yes. Come to papa."

Sam had torn his eyes away from the paper to watch his brother, smiling at his excitement and enjoying Dean's pleasure second hand. Dean opened the plastic quickly, grabbing the plastic fork inside and digging in within seconds.

"Mmmm," he closed his eyes, talking with full cheeks "This is good."

Sam smiled, eyes back on the paper.

"Where'd you get this?"

"We drove passed a 24hr gas station a few miles back."

"I didn't think there'd be another for... wait where are we now?"

"A mile or so off the California/Oregon border."

"That's..." Dean paused "Did you sleep at all last night?"

Sam shuffled in his seat "Uh, I may have gotten maybe two hours... ish..."

"Come on man!" Dean was unimpressed.

Sam rolled his eyes "Sorry, Lucifer was giving me a hard time. But I'm fine." He looked straight at Dean as he talked, as if this would convince his brother that he was telling the truth. Dean stared straight back.

"No, really, how are you holding up."

Sam looked away in frustration. "I'm handling it. He's..." Dean noticed his brothers eyes flick to a seemingly empty spot in the air above the Impala's front. "It's fine."

Dean chose to let Sam get away with the lie.

"Whatever." His eyes flicked to the back seat where John Winchester's journal was lying half open. "So... unless you've been reading Dad's journal for kicks, and considering that you've been frowning at that newspaper since I woke up, I'm assuming you've got something."

Sam shook himself away from some distraction and looked back to the paper in his hands. "Yeah, look at this." He handed it to Dean, pointing to an article on the edge of the page.

Dean skimmed through it, "...quiet neighborhood... shocking.. blah blah blah... here we go; 'the confrontation early on Wednesday morning ended gruesomely with the man's death. His son has been arrested and charged for allegedly beheading his father..." Dean raised his eyebrows and looked over to Sam "Beheading? Really?"

Sam nodded "Read on."

"Ahhh... 'The suspect, Thomas Cameron... has a long standing mental illness that family and friends believe was the cause of the attack.'... Thomas Cameron... Why does that name sound familiar?"

"He was a colleague of Dad's. He worked with us on a few cases when we were kids."

"Yeah, I think I remember; 'bout medium height, dark hair... bit of an affinity for knives?"

"That could be more then a few people we know... but yes I think you've got the one. And get this; a bit further on there's a quote from his mother saying that Tom was yelling something about monsters before the decapitation."

"So what, you think that his Dad was a vamp? Or a leviathan?"

"Maybe."

"Well what are we supposed to do about it? The cops have him. We can't exactly turn up and prove him innocent; he probably _did_ behead the guy."

"I know, but the dude saved our lives more than once Dean, I just think we should go check it out. I mean, if it was a Leviathan then there's probably something big going on, and if it was a vamp there might be a nest to look in to. Its only a 4 or 5 hour drive."

"Okay fine, lets do this, where are we headed?"

"Sacramento city."

"I'm driving."

. ~ ~ ~ ~

The door of the lift opened with a ping and three suited figures walked out of it into a long hallway. A woman lead the way and beside her two men exchanged a tired glance as she started to question them again.

"I don't mean go on about this, but why are the FBI interested in this case? It's pretty cut and dry; there are a number of witnesses and a DNA encrusted murder weapon. The SFPD can handle it."

The taller of the two suited men took the question.

"We think it might be related to with another case we've been working on, there are a number of similarities…

"Like what?"

"We can't discuss it at this time."

"You're kidding right? My team and I are working this case, we have the right to know any facts you have connected to it."

"Sorry."

"So, what, you think this psycho might have killed someone else?"

"Uh, something like that."

She decided to let the issue drop as they walked through a door into the morgue.

The shorter of the men took advantage of the pause to move the conversation back to the facts of the case. "So, the body?"

"It's in 26."

She walked over and pulled open a freezer drawer, reaching over to unzip the black body bag. Sure enough, a head unconnected from its body sat just above its decapitated corpse.

"Lovely."

The woman raised an eyebrow and was about to comment when the taller man took her attention "Ah, was there anything... odd... about the body?"

"And by odd you mean...?"

The darker haired man answered "Not normal, peculiar, different from the usual?"

"You mean apart from the decapitation?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Not that I've been made aware of."

"No, uh, black goo or anything at the crime scene? Or on the body?"

"Not that I saw... Black goo?"

The men exchanged a glance "Just something from a previous case."

"Alright then."

Silence ensued.

"Could I have a moment to talk to my colleague please Agent Skiles?"

"Sure. I have other cases to get to. I'll leave you two to it."

The agent turned to leave.

"Oh one more thing" The lighter haired man paused her. "The suspect - Thomas Cameron?"

"He's upstairs. I'll get him ready to talk to you."

"Thanks."

He turned back to the body as she left the room.

"So, what do you think Dean?"

"I don't know. No black goo, and if he was leviathan his head would have reattached by now." Pulling a plastic glove onto his hand he carefully lifted back the top lip of the unattached head and pressed on the gum. He looked up at his brother when nothing happened. "Not a vamp either."

"So what? Some other monster? Beheading works on a lot of things."

"Maybe. OR this isn't one of our things and good-old Tom just murdered his Dad for some normal reason."

"Normal reason?"

"Whatever people usually get murdered for... I don't know."

"Well we should still go talk to him." Sam frowned down at the body, rolling his eyes over it before pausing as he noticed something "Hey Dean, look at this..." He reached down to pull back the edge of the man's shirt sleeve, revealing a ring of symbols burned into the flesh around his wrist.

"What is that?"

"I don't know... but it looks familiar..."

"Some sort of binding spell? Like with you and Meg back in the good old days?"

Sam didn't appreciate the association "Maybe..."

They both spun around when they heard the doors open behind them.

"Agent Skiles?"

"I'm afraid I won't be able to let you talk to Cameron today"

"Agent, this is an FBI case, we need access, we have lead here"

"You can have all the lead you want, but you still can't talk to him. He's gone."

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To be continued..._  
Next: '_Well we should've seen that coming.'  
_  
Author's Note: _So this is a story I started not long after I first watched the S7 episodes it is set between. Being a SPN latecommer, that was around christmas 2012 for me. Then I forgot about it. Then remembered, then forgot again. But now I've broken the barrier and begun to put it up! I have most of it written, so expect updates every week at least, and look forward to monsters and a little brotherly angst along the way.  
Anyways... Hope you're enjoying it so far...!  
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_


	2. The Victims

"Well we should've seen that coming."

The brothers walked out onto the street outside the SFPD offices.

"Yeah well how are we going to find him now Sam?"

"I don't know, but it's what we would have done."

"Exactly, so if he's got a head on his shoulders he'll be out of here."

"Not if he doesn't think he killed it."

"Which he might of;which would mean that we don't actually have anything to do here."

"Well how about we at least find out what this thing was and make sure it's dead before we skip town."

"Fine. I'll head to the crime scene."

"Good. I'm going to go talk to Skiles and find out if there were any more deaths that could be related."

"Good luck with that. I'm sure there are a whole stack of beheadings just waiting to be discovered"

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother, shaking his head slightly as he turned to goback inside. He was already sat at a computer, a pile of files to one side, and deeply absorbed in his research by the time Dean had started the Impala.

... ... ...

Cameron's house - well his parents house - was nice enough. Neat garden, clean white walls, and uncluttered verandah. The police tape did little to improve the aesthetics but instinctively ignoring the keep-out signs, Dean quickly made his way to the front door. It didn't take him long to pick the lock and get inside.

The site of beheading was still very obvious; at the bottom of the stairs blood had splattered dramatically across the pale cream walls. Definitely not leviathan. He pulled out his EMF reader, nothing. He sniffed around for sulfur. Nothing. Kept his eyes peeled for ectoplasm. Nothing.  
Great.

His phone rung.

"Hey Sam, tell me you have something cause I've got nada here."

"No luck?"

"Nothing."

"Well I had a look over Cameron's interview, he didn't say much, but I did find something. There's been a string of deaths over the last few months that I think are all linked to whatever this thing is."

"I'm assuming they weren't all beheadings?"

"No, a few murders, mostly suicides, but listen to this - before every death family and friends reported a huge behavioral change. All these people just suddenly went bad; drinking, drugs, theft, violence, all sorts of other felonies. But originally they were good people, loved by all etc etc, a few of them did charity work. These guys didn't even have parking tickets. "

"So good turned evil? Sounds like demon possession."

"Yeah."

"But there's no sulfur Sammy. And Cameron's smart, he's a good hunter, he would have sorted a demon out easy."

"It's something to start with anyway."

"Any other leads?"

"Yes. Two cases. The first is the case right before Cameron, this girl - Janie Erwin - goes unexpectedly off the deep end and two weeks later kills herself. Jumped off a bridge. I checked up on Cameron's dad and the day after Janie died he got into a fist fight in the street, _in the middle of the day_. First time he's ever been in any sort of fight.

"Okay, what's the other?"

"I think this might be the next victim. Dove Anderson. Missing person report by herb housemate states that she started acting strangely around the time of the beheading and then disappeared a few days ago."

"Well let's go have a talk to them shall we?"

"You're closer to Dove's house than I am."

"Okay. Lets do this."

... ... ...

"I didn't think I'd get anyone helping. Especially the FBI. The police told me they couldn't get involved until she'd been gone for weeks."

Dove's roommate was a quite girl. Long light hair framed a round pretty face and light eyes were creased with worry. She was dressed for home, comfortable pants and t-shirt and an old hoodie which she kept shrugging forward a little self-consciously. She lead Dean towards the lounge, tidying what she could along the way.

"We think that Dove may be involved in a case we're working on."

Her head shot up. "Wait, how?"

"I can't tell you that. Sorry."

"Oh." She paused and then turned back to sweeping things off the couch and coffee table while Dean looked around the room. "Sorry about the mess, It's not usually like this, I've been a bit out of sorts since Dove... left."

Dean turned from the shelf of photos he was eyeing, holding one of the frames in his hand. In it a woman with long dark hair smiled brightly, arm around her similarly grinning roommate. "This her?"

"Yeah."

"So what happened? You said in the missing person's report that she started acting strangely?" he motioned for her to sit down and made himself comfortable on the chair opposite.

"Yes. Dove is... Dove is usually the sweetest person. She never has a mean word to say, she'd never do anything wrong, she looked after everything, looks after me... I can't think of anyone that would say a word against her... Uh, anyway, she came home one day just, different. I though something must have happened but she wouldn't talk about it. She just got... mean. When I tried to get her to open up after a few days she... well she didn't take it very well." She looked away. Dean followed her gaze to the next room. The formerly glass panes of a bookcase had been smashed out, a few shards still stuck in their corners, a few panels cracked but not quite shattered.

"What did she do?"

"Um, she threw some stuff around, broke a few things, yelled a lot."

"And?" he could tell there was something else.

She squirmed a little in her seat. "Uh, she hit me."

"What?"

"It's completely unlike her, it was like she was someone else entirely. Nothing like that has ever happened..." Dean noticed her unconsciously reaching to her left shoulder, her jumper moving a bit so that he could see the edge of a large dark purple bruise.

"You didn't mention it in the missing persons report."

"It wasn't her, so no I didn't. Anyway, I though mentioning a fight would make them less likely to look for her."

"This might seem like an odd question, but have you noticed anything else unusual around the house? Uh, cold spots or bad smells, flickering lights? Anything at all?"

"Not that I can think of."

"And what about Dove, did you notice if she had any unusual marks on her? Burns maybe?"

She frowned, but then paused in thought a moment "I do remember noticing that her wrists were quite red... She said it was a rash, wouldn't let me see."

"How long have you known Dove?"

A small smile came over her face "I've known her since school and we've been living together since university... God it has to be 15 years or something now."

"Is there anywhere she might go? Does she have other friends or family she would visit?"?

"There is one place, her parents have an apartment they rent out in the city, I'm not sure if anyone is living there at the moment. But I did talk to the receptionist, he said he hadn't seen her around."

"I'll check it out. Thank you." He stood up to leave.

"Thank you, I hope you can bring her back."

"Uh, we'll do our best. Let us know if you hear from her or find out anything about where she is." Dean handed her a small white business card which she took haltingly. "And look out for yourself okay?"

She nodded.

Outside Dean grabbed his phone.

... ... ...

Sam stood at the door of an old house, the increasing wind playing havoc with his hair. He held his phone to his ear as he stared up at the storm clouds that were quickly building overhead. "Okay Dean, I'm almost done here... No, not yet, we should do some research first…. I'll meet you outside." He hung up and turned back to the older man waiting for him in the doorway, Janie's father. "Sorry, that was the other agent on the case. I just had one last question; you said Janie just came home different one day, do you have any idea where she went that day?"

"She just went out... Like any other day; we dropped her off at school and then she walked home."

"Thanks for all your help."

"No problem. I hope I was useful. Janie was a good kid, just a good, happy kid. I don't understand it."

Sam smiled sadly at him and turned to leave, but paused as the wind suddenly calmed. He looked up again and noticed that the clouds that had been threatening a storm had abruptly begun to abate. Sam frowned at them slightly.

A voice behind him answered his expression.

"We've had a lot of crazy weather recently. Sunshine, then rain, then sun, then storming and then windy... Just the time of year I suppose."

"Yeah… probably."

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To be continued..._  
Next: _'The Motel Room'  
_  
Author's Note: _Well it's never just the weather is it? Hope you're enjoying the story so far...  
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	3. The Motel Room

The motel room was standard. One cheap room plus a bathroom off to the side with a slightly damaged mirror hanging over the sink. Peeling wallpaper and creaky beds and a small scattering of furniture so that it didn't look too bare. A table here, a lamp there. In truth it was actually nicer than some of the places they had stayed at, but they didn't really notice. It was just another spot to spend a few nights before they moved on. From the moment they opened the door a familiar, instinctive routine was enacted. Bags were thrown down quickly to claim beds, jackets were hauled off and ties loosened. Sam pulled out his laptop and a pile of old books as Dean reached for a familiar journal, and they made themselves as comfortable as they could.

Today Sam had claimed the table, he sat and frowned at his laptop as he typed and clicked and searched, reaching over every now and again to cross-check something in a book. Dean had the bed. He sat with his back against the wall, legs out in front of him, looking various shades of bored and frustrated. The clock ticked. And ticked. And ticked.

"Oh crap. I think I've got something"

"I can't say that fills me with confidence Sammy."

"Yeah, you're not going to like this."

"_Great._ Come on then, hit me with it."

"I think we might be dealing with a Shaytan."

"Okay...? What's a Shaytan?"

"Well its a type of Djinn..."

"Oh fantastic, just what I wanted."

"Yeah. According to legend they're more like spirits but with some Djinn powers as well as about 8 different types of magic. Some myths say they formed from rebellious Djinn, others say that they're actually spirits that have become advanced and powerful enough to take on take on Djinn-esque powers. Basically their M.O is a type of possession where they manipulate their victims into doing wrong and then feed off their guilt, hoping to the next victim when the host is caught or commits suicide - or in this case is killed."

"Well that just sucks."

"Yeah. And get this, they can also cause storms and sandstorms."

"Which explains the freaky weather."

"Yep."

"Awesome. How do we kill it? Same as the rest of the Djinn? Silver and lambs blood?"

"It's a bit unclear, but as far as I can tell, yes. Except as an added bonus, lore says they need to be 'bound by their weakness' first. Whatever that is."

"Great. So we just have to capture the weirdly powerful Djinn creature, chain it up with something - we don't know what- and stab it."

"Pretty much."

"What about the wrist tattoos? Any luck?"

"I was just about to ask you the same thing."

"The only thing I could find was a note saying that it might be a sign of possession. Which now makes sense."

"Okay, so how do we find it?"

"Well we already have an address. So I'm going to go check it out while you make sure we really know how to gank this son-of-a-bitch."

"You _really_ think going alone is a good idea? Especially after we've just found out how powerful it is?"

"It probably won't even be there."

Sam was unconvinced.

"I'll be careful. I'll bring the knife and blood and knock it out if I have to."

Sam raised his eyebrows at his brother with an expression that had 'Really Dean?' plastered squarely across it.

"_Also_ you haven't slept enough over the last few days. We need to be quick with this thing. So once you've confirmed our 'how to kill' guidelines I want you to get some rest."

"Oh come on!" Sam exhaled in frustration.

"No arguing Sammy or I'll just chain you to the chair. I'll call once I've scouted the place."

He grabbed his jacket and walked out, swinging the door shut behind him. Sam rubbed his forehead with his fingertips and sighed before leaning back towards his laptop.

..._..._..._...

An hour and half later, inside a tall apartment block, Dean walked quietly walked towards Dove Anderson's apartment.  
"60, 62, 64…"  
He slowed as he reached the door.  
"…68"  
It was, worryingly, ajar.

Dean drew out his silver knife as he pushed open the door, carefully checking that the space was clear as he did so. He checked the rooms one by one, stopping when he came into the lounge to find the body of a man sprawled across the floor.

He pulled out his phone, scanning the scene as he waited for the call to connect.

"Hey Sammy... I found Thomas Cameron."

* * *

_To be continued..._

Next: _'The Shaytan'_

Authors Note:_ Gasp! Poor Thomas! So... Hi... from almost two years since my last chapter. Basically, I'm in the process of clearing out my computer and I found this story. Then I came on here to look-see and realised I never posted more than the first two 'chapters'. Which is odd considering that this story has apparently been complete and sitting on my laptop for two years... Anyway, enjoy my two-year-old writing! SIGH._


	4. Monster of the Week

Thomas Cameron's body was not in good shape. Dark black markings ran across his skin, down arms and legs and up his neck onto his face, a swirling continuous tattoo that looked like it had stung everywhere it touched. The marks emanated from a singular point in the center of his chest, a handprint burnt through his shirt and deep into his skin. The flesh was singed and raw or else dark and badly bruised around it and the smell of barbequed flesh was truly off-putting. 

Dean continued his conversation.

"We're definitely on the right track."

"That's something I guess." On the other end of the line Sam was still very much awake, waiting in line for a coffee he had ordered. "We should give him a proper hunter's funeral."

"Yeah well as soon as you work out how to get his body down from a 7th floor apartment without anyone noticing, let me know."

Sam sighed, "No sign of the Shaytan?"

"Not apart from what its done to Cameron..."

"Well I went to Janie's school; no one seemed to notice a change in her behavior until halfway through the day. She was acting like the 'perfectly lovely grade A student she usually was'. Then at lunch she went out to get food and when she came back started causing all sorts of trouble. She didn't turn up after that. And to top it off, on her way back from lunch she would have passed the place where the victim before her killed himself."

"So the body skipping is tied to place? What about Cameron's dad?"

"Well remember how he got into that fight in the street?"

"Yeah"

"And remember where his house is?"

"Yeah?"

"Half a block from a bridge crossing the Sacramento river?"

"But why would tha... Oh."

"Yeah."

"Okay then."

"So if we want somewhere else to check out we could try around Cameron's house."

"Okay well I'll head back there once I've finished scouting out here," there was a creak at the door.

"Hey Dean, I don't think we..."

"Wait."

"What is it?"

"Shhhh."

Sam hung on the other end of the line.

"Dean?"

But his brother wasn't answering.

Dean slipped the phone back into his pocket, gripping the knife tight one more. Sliding himself against the wall he crept slowly towards the doorway, listening carefully for any sound, painfully aware of Cameron's mangled body still in view. He turned the corner, knife at the ready, to see the back of a head disappear into the corridor, the door closing behind it. Dean bolted forward and was about to run straight out, but thought better of it and paused to open the door slowly, ready to strike if necessary, but he could see the woman's form half way down the corridor.

"Hey!"

She ignored him. Dean ran after her but as she reached the corner she turned, staring down the hallway towards him. Dean stopped in his tracks, he recognised her immediately, but she did not seem even slightly perturbed by the hunter pursuing her.

"Dove?"

She smiled disconcertingly at Dean as he pushed himself to take chase one more. He veered around the corner to see her walking calmly forward so that he was within an arms length when she turned the next corner. He veered sharply around it to find the corridor completely empty. Stopping abruptly, he spun around and back again to check that she wasn't behind him. But she was nowhere to be seen.

"Son of a bitch!"

He reached into his pocket and pulled the phone back up to his ear. Sam hadn't hung up.

"Dean?"

"I saw it Sammy. Well I saw Dove anyway. There's definitely some possession mumbo jumbo going on here. That thing freakin' ninja'd its way outta here."

"What, you lost it?"

"I swear I was only a second behind. Hold on I'll call you back."

"Wait, Dean... Dean?" But the call had already been ended "Rats."

"Triple red eye?" the voice over the counter pulled Sam's attention away from his previous occupation of furrowing his eyebrows at his phone.

"Yeah, that's mine."

Grabbing the cup, he made his way out of the store, pulling his phone to his ear again as he turned and headed to the motel. It beeped into voice mail.

"Hey Dean, call me. I don't think we should be going after this thing one on one... hold on..."

He made it to the door of their room without enough hands to reach the keys and so held the phone to his ear with his shoulder as he pulled them out of his pocket. He pushed the door open with his side before taking the phone back into his hand.

"...we can't be sure if..." but his sentence was abruptly cut off as he was slammed into the wall.

Hot coffee went flying, splashing out of the cup as it fell, decorating Sam and the room with a scalding brown splash. The phone dropped out of his hand as he gasped, air knocked from his lungs. Still held up against the wall he couldn't do much but squirm, eyes darting wildly as he attempted to find his attacker. The room was seemingly empty; yet the strong power holding him against the wall presented evidence for it to be otherwise. Instinctively his eyes went to his bag, but there was no chance of reaching any weapon from inside it and so he scanned the room, tying to find something to attack with. Aside from a small lamp just out of the reach of his fingertips, nothing was close by. But his phone had not been broken by the fall and as far as he could tell voicemail was still running. He began to speak,

"Dean! It's..."

But his words were instantly cut off by a yelp as his head was forced backwards, a crinkle in his shirt had taken the shape of a hand and a second later tattooed black and blue skin was appearing, starting at the fingertips and spreading up the arm that was pushing violently into Sam's chest. A shape became visible. The form of a woman, the same woman that Dean had described, the same woman that had been in photos on her housemate's shelves, and looking like any normal human being except that now black and blue colouring was creeping along her skin. For the moment it faded out near her shoulder, but the colour was slowly consuming more and more of her.

Cringing but defiant, Sam saw the smile in her eyes before he felt a new onslaught of pain. A blue light pulsed down the woman's arm and into him, black markings spreading out from the point of contact and becoming visible as they crept past Sam's shirt collars and sleeve ends. Another burst of light and then another, and a relishing smirk from the woman as the man in front of her writhed in pain.

But in another moment there was a sudden swipe and the thud of contact. The black markings retracted, Sam's fingertips had reached something to attack with and the sheer will to survive had provided the energy to swing it.

The creature recoiled and Sam fell to the floor with a thud, scrambling unsteadily onto his feet and trying to face his enemy despite blurring vision. Through the haze he could see the Shaytan staring down at the sizzling gash across its stomach in anger. It turned towards him again as Sam lunged forward with his impromptu weapon, managing to hit it once more and cause another screech of pain.

Before he could take yet another swing the woman threw him across the room. He felt his head smash against something hard, but kept his eyes open long enough to see the creature vanish. The blackness settled in as his phones' voicemail beeped its end.

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_To be continued…_  
Next: _'Goddammit Sam!'_

Authors Note:_ Sammy! Oh no! Hey, nothing for two years then the rest of the story all at once? What is this? Presenting, for your amusement or horror, more of this story I wrote two years ago, with much love from Hecatia10._  
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	5. Half a Plan

"Goddammit Sam!"

Dean pressed the pedal down harder and the Impala sped forwards. Sam's yells of pain were still ringing out from Dean's phone. In between hearing Sam's phone drop, a loud crash and a gasp of pain he hadn't stopped to do anything except throw himself into his car and slam down the acceleration.

He grabbed his phone and angrily switched it off, flinging it back in the passenger seat with force. The message was only a few minutes old, but given the situation that still wasn't a comforting thought. He couldn't quite bring himself to listen right to its end - he would find out what had happened soon enough. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

The Impala swung around the corner of the motel, skidding to a halt by their front door. Dean was out of the car in a second, bursting in to the room with knife at the ready. At eye level nothing could be seen, nothing to fight anyway, the room was clear. But he was stopped in his tracks by the sight of his brother on the floor. Sam's lumbering form was slumped on his side by the wall. Dean could see bruises. He could see burns, and he could see blood. A pool of it around his head, a bloody mark on the corner of a table.

"Sam?"

He rushed forwards.

"Sam!"

Dean saw Sam's chest move, felt his brother's breath on a hand held by his face, and suddenly let himself breathe too.

"Thank freakin' god you god-dammed sonofabitch."

He looked his brother over, trying to find the wound, somewhat carefully rolling him off his side to find the gash running along the right side of his head. Better then he had hoped. Now with a view of his chest, Dean could see the handprint burnt through Sam's t-shirt. The glimpses of skin that could be seen were alternatively red raw or badly bruised and Dean could only hope that the damage was just skin deep.

He collected his thoughts; head wound first, then the splash-shaped burn down Sam's arm. He could attend to that quickly. Then worry about everything else. He hoped nothing was broken. A chilling thought occurred to him and he looked down at Sam's wrists, but there was no hint of any symbols burnt into them. One less thing to worry about.

"Mmmmgh."

Movement. Dean's eyes flicked back to Sam's face.

"Hey Sam. Sammy?"

"Mmmmm?" Eyes tried to blink open. "Dean?"

"Hey. Don't try to move. How are you feeling?"

"Ugh. Sore? My head..." Dean could see him trying to get up and quickly put his hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"Hold on there. How many fingers am I holding up?" He held up three.

"Uh. Three... I think."

"Okay that's one test passed. Anything else hurt?"

Sam moved his fingers, then arms, feet and legs, wincing a few times as he did so.

"Uh, everything?"

"No kidding. Well first we can patch up that head. Don't move too fast."

Dean walked over to his bag. Sam slowly sat up, hand at first to his head but then suddenly to his chest.

"Argh!"

"That'll be the massive, freakishly shaped bruise you've gained yourself."

Sam looked down, gazing in slight astonishment at the mark.

"Ow."

He stood up painfully and walked tentatively towards the chair Dean had pulled out for him.

"Watch out for your arm too. What happened Sammy? Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you're in one piece, but how come you're _not_ fried on the floor right now. Or possessed." He paused, "As far as we know."

Sam frowned down at his wrists. "Um, It's all a bit fuzzy... Ack" he grimaced as Dean started on his head

"Don't complain. Well what _do_ you remember?"

"I went to get some coffee, and I was talking to you, and then when I got back into the room she jumped me. I don't know if she was trying to posses me or just kill me..."

"And?"

"I don't know. I think I managed to hit her with something...Um..." he noticed the broken lamp on the floor. "The lamp I think."

"So what, freakishly strong ninja Shaytan can't handle being hit with a _lamp_ by a guy she's beating up? No offense."

"None taken. I don't know, I think..." Sam frowned as he tried to remember "it seemed to affect her... like she'd been burned..."

Dean finished dressing the wound and pulled out some more bandages to deal with Sam's arm, "Go get that burn of yours under some cool water."

Sam walked slowly towards the bathroom, turning the tap and sticking his arm under the running water.

Dean looked over to the lamp and grabbed it. "This thing?"

"Yeah. Hey, what's it made of?"

"Bronze. I think."

"Well maybe she's allergic to it... it works on Shaytan the way silver works on most things or salt works on ghosts?"

"But _bronze_ Sam? How did the species even survive past, you know, the bronze age?"

"I don't know Dean. More importantly why does the dingy motel have a bronze lamp. They're expensive.

"I don't even care why you know that."

"Well I think we found its weakness anyway."

"Huh. That's something I guess."

Sam walked back out of the bathroom, patting his arm somewhat gingerly with the wet towel. He sat back down on the chair and moved the cool towel to his chest with a wince.

"So what happened with you Dean?" he asked, watching as his brother began to wrap the coffee burn in a cold cloth.

"I saw it, chased it and then it was gone. Vanished into thin air or some crap."

"Right..."

"So how come it went after you and not me? I mean, I was the one chasing the damn thing. It should've come at me."

"I'm not sure. In the lore it definitely likes to mess with people so maybe it had something to do with that?"

"Should've come at me." Dean repeated.

"It's not your fault."

"Whatever. We've got its weakness so lets gank this douchebag. Did you get far into your killer plan?"

"Not really, but I did find a diagram for a trap that is supposed to keep it contained."

"What, like a devils' trap for Dijnn?"

"Close enough. I'm pretty sure there's a summoning spell too."

"Who would want to summon one of these wackjobs?"

Sam shrugged.

"And we need to bind it in bronze right? What're we gonna do, tie the lamp to it?" Dean continued.

"Well Cameron was a hunter, he was looking into this, I mean, he was visiting his parents but it stands to reason he brought at least some of his gear with him."

"And what's plan B? Head to the nearest hardware store in the immediate vicinity and hope she hasn't skipped town by then?"

"Well do you have a better plan?"

They exchanged a look.

"On your head be it. Let's get this asshat."

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_To be continued…_  
Next: _'The Trap'_

Authors Note:_ So I found out why I never finished posting this story. It was because I hadn't written the last half of this middle bit. The final two chapters were mostly written, the first 4.5 chapters were written, but the middle chapter? Nah, not important to finish that one right? Anyway, I finished it. Also I just realised that damn 8.20 used some of my Djinn ideas. This is why you should always get your ideas out there first kids._  
\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


	6. The Trap

"This is taking too long Dean."

Sam and Dean stood in the garage of Cameron's parents. The space had been emptied save for an old desk and chair in the corner, spread with an ancient book and the remains of a toxic looking recipe. A thickly outlined triangle filled with squiggling symbols had been drawn into the concrete floor with lamb's blood, still gleaming.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!"

Sam would have rolled his eyes at this brother if he hadn't been so preoccupied with staying alert of any movement. Still nothing happened.

"Silly little hunters, always thinking they have the upper hand."

Both boys spun around to see the Shaytan walk through the garage walls. Her voice was powerful and teasing; the dangerously smooth, song-like quality to it setting both boys on even higher alert. Dean took the lead.

"Well maybe the hunters do have the upper hand this time. You're here aren't you?"

"Well yes, but not because of that silly little summoning spell." Sam and Dean jumped slightly as she vanished from sight. They spun around again when they heard her voice behind them, she sat with her feet up on the desk, flicking through the spell book. "You pronounced most of it wrong by the way."

"But you're still here."

"You were just so annoyingly persistent. I decided that I really should get rid of you."

She vanished once more and Sam was forced to his knees as she appeared again, now holding a knife to his neck. Her every move was fluid, actions effortless and flowing like smoke. Sam tensed, hand tightening around his own weapon, and Dean was more taken aback then he allowed himself to show.

She breathed down Sam's neck, mouth by his ear.

"And the trap you've sprayed over the floor? Also wrong, just in case you hadn't worked that out yet. It's the symbol on the left you two ruined, for future reference."

She laughed and disappeared again. Now her voice floated through the air, disconnected from any body.

"Sorry, but I do love to play with my food. Makes it ever so filling. But both of you are going to be a real treat. I think I've found the two most guilty people I've ever had the fortune to meet. And guess how filling you will be when one of you lets the other die."

The word die was emphasised by a groan from Dean, a long red gash suddenly appearing across his chest. He doubled over, dropping his knife. Sam started forward but a "tut tut tut" floated across the room and he found himself motionless, struggling against the same force that had kept him bound last time.

"Who knows. Maybe I'll take one of you now and then leave the other for a later meal. Think of all the fun we could have."

The Shaytan appeared by Sam's side, trailing her fingers down his arm and licking them clean before transporting over to Dean. It was Sam's expression she watched as she placed her hand on Dean's shoulder and the black and blue skin began to form. Dean howled in pain, he couldn't help it, while his brother struggled to get free. But he was held far too tight. The Shaytan tilted her head to the side, smiling at Sam's attempts before all of a sudden forcing Dean's head up. Then she was beside Sam, freeing him from her spell only to run a deep gash down his side, now watching Dean's reaction as Sam fell to the floor, only just able to stop himself from slamming into the ground. She sniffed the air hungrily, sighing in pleasure as she reached for Sam once more.

"What a failure you both are. Can't even save your own brother."

She lifted Sam into the air and began to carve an intricate pattern into the exposed skin of his neck, basking in Dean's reactions to Sam's wounded gasps, skirting her slices around his veins as if she didn't want him dead quite yet. She dropped him to the floor without warning, and Sam's hands immediately grasped his neck in an effort to stop the bleeding.

"Sucky plan boys. Think it though a bit better next time. Well, except that you don't get a next time. That other hunter, Thomas, thought that I was a shapeshifter. Oh the fun I had with him when I told him he really had killed his father. The guilt was… delicious. That's the problem with hunting really isn't it? You make a mistake and then you _die_."

"Yeah well, me and Dean here have an historical problem with that rule." Sam said in pained breaths.

"And do you know what?" Dean spat out, a small smile on his face so that the Shaytan's attention focused on him, "You shouldn't judge the plan until you know what it is."

Sam leapt forward, pulling a bronze chain tight around the Shaytan's form. She writhed in pain; everywhere the chain touched bare skin sizzled red. Dean went for his knife, still dripping with lamps blood, as soon as her power waned enough to release him, but just as he was about to plunge the blade through her heart, the writhing stopped. A blue light enveloped her as the creature pulled away from its host and formed a new body of smoke and light on the other side of the room. Dove went limp in the chains, collapsing into Sam's arms. But she was still breathing. Sam lay her to the floor as quickly as he could while Dean stood unsteadily, knife at the ready, unsure of what to suspect from this Shaytan in its new form. The spirit was still for a few seconds, allowing the brothers for a moment the thought that they had had some effect. But then she looked up with a grin.

"Well that was counter one. Have you got counter two ready?"

.

* * *

_To be continued…_

Next: '_I love this song…'_

Authors Note:_ Who, who is this kid? What they gonna do?_


	7. The End

The Shaytan swooped towards Dean, knocking him fast into the hard concrete wall. A wave of her hand slammed Sam into the side of the while she placed both hands on Dean's chest and began pushing him back, black tattoos surging forward. Sam pushed himself up again, grabbing for his knife and throwing it to send it slicing past her arm.

She let Dean drop for a second and he opened his eyes to hear Sam yell his name and heave himself in the way of the creature returning to his older brother. The Shaytan willingly indulged Sam's invitation and slashed another gash into him before digging in for her meal, one hand now squeezing around his neck. Ignoring everything else, Sam's eyes stayed on Dean, watching as his older brother began to dip out of consciousness.

"Dean!" He choked out angrily, anxiously, somehow still hoping that Dean would get out okay.

But all was lost. Dean was down and out of action and Sam was slowly fading.

Then the spirit screeched, a bloody knife stuck out of its back, put there by a small strong hand. The Shaytan let Sam drop and he gasped for air, watching as the spirit writhed and screeched and then stopped existing in an explosion of light.

Behind where it had been, stood Dove, holding the knife with a calm expression.

"That was for Diana."

:~~~~~:

Outside Dove's house, Dean and Sam stood stiff and sore and moderately bandaged. They had been able to hide most of their cuts and bruises underneath their jackets, but they nevertheless looked damaged enough that a family crossed the road rather than walk past them on the street.

Diana was waiting outside. It was a hesitant but then unconditionally joyful reunion that Sam and Dean watched from a distance, leaning against the Impala.

"Do you think she'll be alright?" Dean looked away as the 'roommates' sunk into a passionate kiss. "I'm pretty sure there's some severe emotional damage there."

"Dove or Diana?"

"Both. Who knows what that thing made her do. That's gonna suck."

"Possession is never fun Dean."

Dean watched Sam from of the corner of his eye.

"She has someone to look after her, she'll be fine."

Sam half-laughed, "I think she can look after herself."

Dean raised his eyebrows into a 'true' expression.  
"Well you're not wrong. She definitely saved our asses."

They turned back to the Impala, Dean taking the drivers seat.

"It's nice to have someone live for once."

Sam frowned. "Yeah. But you know Dean… We didn't even try to save her. We just went for the kill without thinking about it. If the bronze hadn't forced the Shaytan out, Dove would be dead and buried and we wouldn't have given it a second thought."

"That's the job Sam. We couldn't have known..."

"I know Dean, but in the old days we would have tried. The thought at least would've crossed our minds."

"Well a lot has changed."

Sam stared at him for a moment before tuning to face the front windscreen. Dean copied the motion.

"But you might be right," Dean continued, then paused, looking back to his brother. "And by the way…?"

Sam turned to look at him.  
"Next time you play the hero and throw yourself in front of the bad guy for me; I'm going to kill you."

He started the engine.

Sam laughed incredulously, "Hey! I saved your ass!"

"Yeah well don't do it again." Dean pulled the car onto the street.

Sam smiled and stared out the window, "You're not the only one that gets to protect your brother."

Dean looked over to him, worry edging his small smile, before he broke the moment by reaching over to set "Stairway to Heaven" playing loudly through the stereo.

Sam chuckled to himself as Dean began swaying to the beat, muttering the lyrics under his breath. But the smile faded instantly when a voice only he could hear intruded from the back seat.

_"Oooh Sammy! I love this song!"  
_

* * *

_THE END  
_Next: _S7Ep16 "Out with the Old"_

Authors Note:_ Woot go Dove! Yeah girl! Well there we go. T__hat's the end of this little episode of Supernatural.__ Let me know what you thought!_


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